


the Adventures of Snow White and Captain Hook: Two Lawbreaking Peas in a Mischievous Pod

by wtvoc



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Future Fic, Humor, captain snow, might be considered ooc snow but i don't think so, or is it bandit captain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 10:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2188566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtvoc/pseuds/wtvoc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma doesn't know why she's surprised that the two of them get along so well. Can nothing in her life be simple?</p>
            </blockquote>





	the Adventures of Snow White and Captain Hook: Two Lawbreaking Peas in a Mischievous Pod

"Now what the hell is _this_?"

Why was everything in her life so damned complicated?

There they were, the two perpetrators. Supposed to be stewing but not. She was _so_ not surprised but was thoroughly amused, and incredibly irritated. Idiots.

"What's wrong, love?"

Killian, totally unapologetic, didn't even bother to look at her as he spoke from behind the bars; he just kept on studying the cards in his hand like he was trying to figure out the ice thing on the fridge or something.

"Uhh, what's wrong is this is supposed to be the drunk tank, not a family reunion," Emma said, flustered because _that_ made him turn around and smirk at her with that look and _dammit_ , he'd been on a bender and up to major fucking mischief until the late hours last night, how the hell does he not look like a cat died on his face? Why, why, _why_ is he so hot? She's not supposed to be turned on, she's supposed to be mad.

"Emma," came the voice of the other no-good miscreant. Emma closed her eyes and clenched her jaw because she knew this would be worse, somehow. "Don't be mad at him. _I'm_ the one who dared him to do it."

"Doesn't matter. Regina has magic, remember? You shouldn't be trespassing on her property. She could poof you away to like, New Mexico or Narnia. Or, hello? Dark Curse ringing any bells?"

"Emma—"

" _Don't_. Don't you get all Mary Margaret on me." Her mother gasped, eyes and mouth all wide and offended as her hand fluttered at her chest.

"What does that mean!"

"You two bozos can wait here until David bails your asses out of jail. Remember, I catch bad guys. And you two? Are the worst. I'm going for coffee." Emma stomped out of the station with a huge grin on her face, absolutely delighting in the protests following in her wake. She heard the bars rattle a few times and laughed, knowing this wouldn't be the last time that stupid pirate and her outlaw mother ended up in her lockup together.

  


Emma supposed their friendship made a weird sort of sense. Initially, Mary Margaret was reticent to give her approval, but when it became apparent to everyone that Killian was not only _not_ going anywhere but he was going to be firmly entrenched at her side, her mother had started warming up. Then one day, Emma stomped into the loft after work to the sight of the two of them laughing raucously with a mostly empty bottle of Sailor Jerry's between them. Seeing him there, leaning his elbows on the kitchen island with her mother grabbing onto his hook because she was laughing so hard she needed the counterweight made something lock into place for Emma. Her lips curled in fond amusement while her stomach kind of flipped with a deep sense of foreboding; Snow White and Captain Hook had _way_ too much in common. They were like, compadres; simpatico, two lawbreaking peas in a mischievous freaking pod. _No wonder David has a mancrush on him,_ she thought at the time. _Captain Hook and Snow White are exactly alike._ Okay, so she still thought that. Especially now.

Even her kid pointed it out early on, that they both had sketchy pasts colored with banditry, gleeful rule breaking, and evading justice ("She was wrongfully accused!" "His path was set in motion by the death of his brother!") (oh _good_ , they're defending each other). Henry even jokingly offered to bring Regina's outlaw in and make it a threesome, but when Killian's eyes took on a weird, disgusting glint that meant a filthy joke was forthcoming, Emma grabbed her kid and hauled him off to Granny's for pie, leaving a still chuckling, smarmy-ass pirate to fend for his own damned dessert.

So, Killian and Mary Margaret hanging out all the time became a total thing, and Emma didn't mind. In fact, it was kind of a relief. Her mother was one of those people who didn't love by halves ("Another family trait," he'd smirked), and once she decided Killian was worthy of her daughter, she was 100% on board. With the fervent loyalty she showed to everyone that she loved, Mary Margaret became Killian's number one support-o person, almost always taking his side in everything. "He's good for my daughter," she would shrug (with a glare) by way of explanation to anyone who dared besmirch him in her presence.

David was amused by their friendship—right up to the first time they decided to mess with him. Emma had been packing up her room for the big move (of course, it had been Mary Margaret who dropped a bunch of not-so-casual hints that Killian needed a place that was more permanent and that all the money they each spent on rooms at Granny's was such a waste and hey, doesn't that nice little converted warehouse loft with beautiful exposed brick, new appliances, hardwood floors, lovely west-facing balcony, and stairs leading directly to the beach have a huge "for rent" sign out front?) when she heard the roar, and Emma had a momentary glimpse of what Prince James must have sounded like while defending his kingdom.

"All right, who put an eye patch on Neal? And _where_ did this parrot come from!"

Emma's knee jerk reaction to the yelling had been to run toward the unknown danger, but once her mind processed his words, it was all she could do to stifle the ugly laughter bubbling in her chest. She halted in the doorway of her room, amused at the sight of her father batting at a now-squawking parrot ("Yer a pirate! Yer a pirate! _Squawk_!") flying around his head while the baby giggled in his arms, snickers and snorts coming from behind the kitchen island the entire time.

  


Despite the few hiccups (David got aggravated when _someone_ put sugar in the salt shaker, but that was nothing compared to Emma's annoyance that there never seemed to be any booze when she wanted or needed it), it didn't take much for the Charming family dynamic to accommodate one swaggering pirate. Having the literal Queen of the family's support made it a much smoother and simpler process overall.

Until it became a giant headache.

Mary Margaret and Killian _really_ got along. Like, seriously. He could read Emma like an open book, but he could identify and empathize with Snow White. They even had similar senses of humor; whereas Emma leaned toward sarcasm and darkness, those two tended to go for making light of dark situations and boy, did they have a taste for ribald humor. Emma had to constantly remind herself that like, the story books obviously took serious liberties with the whole characterization thing because boy, was Snow White not innocent. She wasn't innuendo-y or anything, but it was like the two of them egged each other on with the quippy comebacks. David told his daughter that while Mary Margaret might be a kind schoolteacher to also remember that Snow's wit was as sharp and biting as her fighting style. Since Captain Hook's story book characterization paled in comparison to the actual thing, David suggested they just stay out of the way and try to keep Henry as un-traumatized as possible.

Besides drinking, it turned out that their favorite past time was marathonning stuff on Netflix (Emma sort of figured he didn't like TV shows because they could never make it through an entire episode of _Game of Thrones_ without him insulting everyone's lack of honor before starting to get handsy, but that might have more to do with his inability to sit next to her without touching her constantly than his actual interest in television). He proudly announced that Shark Week was his favorite, he did not understand nor appreciate Dawson's Creek, and Doctor Who was "too frenetic." One night Emma and David came home from work to find her mother, her kid, and her pirate watching _Chuck,_ of all things.

"Do you even know what the CIA is?"

"Shh. Spies for the King aren't a new concept, love."

"Yeah, but—pop culture references."

"Maybe he's just rooting for the adorable underdog guy to get the emotionally closed-off, bad ass blonde, Emma." That earned Mary Margaret a high five from Henry.

Oh, good. Three against two now.

A few nights after that, Emma and David came home late (the next time Granny says she's going to chase one of Ruby's dates up a tree, Emma will take her seriously; it took forever to get the guy down) and they found Henry had long gone to bed. Killian and Mary Margaret, however, were on the floor with the coffee table and three empties between them. Each had a bottle of—ew, was that _Jäger_?—in their hand and they were stony-faced, watching the TV intently.

"Hup! They mentioned _Star Wars_! Chug!" Emma watched with horrified fascination as Killian and her mother started swigging freaking __Jägermeister_ straight from the bottle._

"You got the reference that time, right?"

"Indeed I did, Highness." They clinked their bottles together, both looking very smug.

David was the first to say something.

"It smells like Oktoberfest in here. I am definitely not kissing you hello."

"Oh, come now, mate. Don't be like that. Give us a kiss. I'll barely use any tongue." Killian's words were slurred and happy; he really seemed _happy_ , especially when he looked over to fix Emma with his lusty smirk. " _You_ may have tongue, however."

"Dude," Mary Margaret and David said at the same time. Emma merely shook her head and muttered.

"Damn drunks."

  


So yeah, Emma should have seen it coming. Sure, drinking games are fine. In any other world (or maybe it was normal in the magical realms?), it might be weird for a girl's mother and man friend ("Suitor," he amended, almost always followed immediately by Mary Margaret cheerfully chirping, "Boyfriend!") to be drinking buddies, but Emma didn't find it weird in the slightest. She and David even participated on occasion, and it didn't even feel like they were interrupting some sort of secret friendship club or anything when they did. It was... pretty great, actually. Killian had his brolationship with David, he and Mary Margaret had their thing, and Henry was torn between holding Killian up to a high standard of hero worship and maybe-probably-eventual father figure. And she, Emma, was not freaked out about how good it all was.

But as with most good things, Emma was tested. One day she sent David home on time so he could be with the baby while she remained at the station finishing up paperwork ("I don't even know why I have to balance a budget, where does the money for this crap even come from?"). She was just getting out of her car to trudge into their brand spanking new apartment (and hoping against hope that Killian fulfilled his promise to unpack the living room today, he _swore_ he'd try to get to it, his honor as a gentleman, even, but he'd smirked while saying it and then started fingering the badge on her belt loop and she'd gotten distracted right out of insisting he say it so she could do a proper read on him, dammit) when her phone rang. Her caller ID said "switchboard" and she started cursing up a drunk-Killian-worthy storm just before stabbing her finger at "Accept". Dispatch (one of the Lost Boys they'd brought home, she could never remember his name) didn't even say anything, just sighed into the receiver and switched her over.

"Get over here. Right now."

Great. Regina.

With a sinking in her gut (but not _the_ sinking, the one where she always just _knew_ something was off), she slumped back into her Bug and drove over to the mayor's.

Oh. Fucking. Really? _Really_?

Because her existence wasn't complicated enough?

Her formerly evil majesty was standing at the doorway of her house, hands on hips and royal eyebrow up on high. Emma could see Henry's face pressed to the window in his bedroom and when their eyes met, she could just tell that he had been laughing for _ages_.

Sitting right in the middle of Regina's immaculately kept lawn were that damned pirate and her mother; Mary Margaret sat cross-legged and looking not one bit sorry. She had this beatific smile on her face and she was even dressed in a cute little white eyelet dress; the whole innocent look was marred by a tear in her yellow cardigan and a smudge on her cheek. Also the flask that she was passing over to Killian.

 _Killian_. Emma's eyes narrowed because he looked like he always did, as though he'd just done something naughty and he wasn't in the least bit bothered. He was leaning back on one elbow, his legs splayed out in front of him. He took a deep pull from his flask before tossing it back over, then he reached to his side and lifted what Emma soon realized was the object at the center of the nightmare that was currently her life.

An apple. Emma suddenly noticed the two were sitting under Regina's apple tree, _the_ apple tree, and without even asking, she _knew_ those two assholes had gotten up to the lamest sort of mischief _ever_.

Keeping his eyes trained on hers, Killian brought the apple to his lips and took a large, cracking bite. "Mm," he hummed. Then he called over to the house where Regina was still glaring. "These really are exquisite, your majesty."

"Shut up."

"No, really, do you use some sort of magic to get them this juicy, or are you simply well-versed in the horticultural—"

"Ms. Swan," Regina sighed, turning her attention to Emma, and she swore she could see Regina's lip quirk up at the corner that was not in view of the two vandals. "I don't care _what_ you do with them as long as I don't have to look at them anymore. No charges. Just..." She didn't even finish, just pivoted a neat 180 and stalked inside her house, slamming the door behind her.

So, Emma figured a night in the drunk tank would be punishment enough. Sure, both of them had inhuman alcohol tolerance, but she sort of relished the thought of Killian sleeping on the floor because she knew he would never, ever let any lady much less his lady's mother sleep anywhere but the available bed. Plus, there was the bonus that there was maybe, possibly the obscure chance that one of them would actually think about what they had done.

"Emma," Killian whined when she'd actually cuffed him for resisting arrest ("I was simply kissing you by way of greeting!"). "Not in front of Snow, love. She needn't know about our proclivities outside the—"

"Like you're discreet," Emma scoffed. "What were you—wait. You know what? I don't even wanna know. You two obviously need adult supervision from now on."

"I could hardly resist a good dare," he retorted, having the nerve to sound offended. "Pilfering from the Evil Queen? Come now, love." He advanced on her, adding that easy swagger-sway to his hips that drove her crazy, only now she was aroused and pissed, to boot. He leaned over to her ear, nosing at her hair as he whispered, "Should I not be rewarded for my bravery instead of shackled?"

"I thought the shackles _were_ a reward in your eyes," she said, her voice drier and wryer than it had ever been. She rounded on her mother, resisting the urge to offer up her jacket in place of the ripped sweater. "Seriously, you guys? What the hell."

"I thought you wanted us all to be friends," Mary Margaret shrugged. Then hiccuped. Then giggled.

Emma rolled her eyes so far into the back of her skull and for such a sustained amount of time that she was amazed she didn't drive into something while hauling the two degenerates off to the clink. She called David, informed him that they were in love with the two biggest idiots in Storybrooke, then locked them up tight for the night.

Only to return in the morning to a freaking poker game in progress.

 _Sigh_.

  


At least they waited a few weeks before pulling any more serious shenanigans. There were the occasional little things, but nothing worthy of getting arrested—unless you count Mary Margaret deciding that she and Killian needed to learn how to hot wire a car, which Emma did. Mary Margaret in turn argued that since it was David's truck ("Belle read about it and says it'll be a lot harder to do with any models made after say, '96, because of the on-board diagnostics, so stick with stuff made in the 70s and 80s." "It amuses me that you think I have the slightest idea what any of that means, Highness."), there was no way it could be illegal since what's his is mine, right? Emma just stalked past them sitting in the cab of the truck out front of Granny's, muttering something under her breath about pirates not needing help with new and exciting ways to plunder.

It was around then that Emma realized that sometimes, certain combinations of personalities just should not be allowed to hang out together. Mary Margaret Blanchard-Nolan and Killian Jones were like the kids who were basically okay students but put them together in the back of a classroom and suddenly the word "penis" is being uttered then repeated louder and louder, half the class is in hysterics, and someone ends up in the principal's office. That she was the principal in that particular analogy didn't escape Emma, nor did it amuse her. She might have to like, proverbially put them in opposite corners of the classroom, but she wasn't stupid. They'd just fling spitballs across the room to get each other's attention, and Emma was well aware how good Mary Margaret's aim was. Besides, she didn't want to make unfair demands on them. They were adults, and it was way too late at that point, anyway. The damage was done. Emma (and David's) best course of action was acceptance and minimizing poor outcomes. And occasionally, joining in on the fun. Try to keep things simple.

There were times when it was not at all mischievous, just funny—like when Henry decided Killian needed to learn how to make more than pancakes and hardtack because Emma always burnt the Pop Tarts and David's strengths tended to be of the breakfast and baking oeuvre. Since Mary Margaret was the acknowledged family grillmaster ("All those times cooking over an outlaw's campfire, eh, Highness?") and wanted someone to whom she could pass her knowledge of accomplishing medium rare perfection, Henry volunteered Killian. Mary Margaret got him and David matching "Kiss the Cook" aprons emblazoned with their names and each other's faces when she'd pronounced Killian's rib eyes better than hers.

Sometimes Emma was in on the mischief. Like when she and her mother managed to direct a conversation that led to David and Killian demanding to know who was the better swordsman. When Mary Margaret told David that the pirate _had_ been doing it for over three hundred years and Emma pointed out to Killian that David's talent was innate and if he'd actually practice he'd be unstoppable, well. The two men glared at each other and the end result was exactly as Emma, her mother, and Ruby (because naturally the entire thing was Ruby's idea) intended—the two of them looking all menacing and intense, sweating profusely while dueling in the street right in front of Granny's.

She distinctly remembered thinking at the time _if this is what my mother and my boyfriend being buddy-buddy is going to be like, things could be worse._ So of course, things got a little—well, not worse, really, but maybe lateral.

She opened her door—after weeks of coming home to blissful non-mischief—to her ear nearly getting itself a new piercing.

"Sorry!" Her mother's voice trilled with a laugh, the one that was slightly higher-pitched than normal, the one that meant they were drinking. What a shocker. Emma stood stock-still with her eyes shut; not in fear or terror, but in I-am-counting-to-ten-before-flipping-my-shit patience. When she was able to take some yoga breaths and open her eyes, the first thing she noticed was in the periphery—about a dozen arrows sticking out of the fucking wall in her goddamned brand new freaking apartment.

Then she noticed one of the arrows was pierced through a beautiful and perfectly symmetrical (and perfectly familiar) red apple.

Fucking _apples_.

Emma didn't even ask, she simply turned around and calmly shut the door behind her.

When she returned about thirty minutes later, she didn't even acknowledge the arrows or the delinquents ("She near sheared my bloody pate off my skull, love!" "That's what you get for making a dumb dare when I've had tequila, not that it would affect my aim, so quit complaining!"). Emma merely marched up to Killian and reached into the plastic bag dangling from her elbow. Pulling out a can of spackle, she grabbed his wrist and slapped the can into his palm, repeating the process with her mother and two putty knives. Without a word, she went to the kitchen and fixed herself a sandwich and a double whiskey.

She supposed it was her own fault that when she came home the next day, the wall was filled, sure, but there were white patches of spackle everywhere ("You did not purchase paint, love." "Don't look at me like that, he said he didn't think I could shoot an apple off his head, and you know how I am about a good dare!").

  


So, their odd (okay, admittedly not odd or even unexpected just... slightly unsettling?) bond had a tendency to wreak havoc in Emma's life, until one day it kind of saved David from running Killian through with a sword. On the day they showed up at the loft and announced that Emma was pregnant.

Mary Margaret actually slapped and tugged at David's arm as he reached for the scabbard he kept in the umbrella stand. Killian stood his ground, his arms crossed and a soft smile lighting his face. Emma rolled her eyes at everyone and everything, putting her arm around Henry's shoulder as he tried to keep his laughter from escaping.

When David actually pulled the sword out with a crisp, metallic _shiiiiiiiink_ and hefted it easily, Mary Margaret put herself in between her irate prince and the defiant pirate, arms in front of her with her palms and wrists facing the ceiling.

"David," she said softly. "He does not need to 'do the right thing.' He's been doing the right thing since Neverland."

A couple of jaw clenches and a handshake-back-pat hug later had three men and one matriarch taking a celebratory shot of rum ("Never again," shuddered her kid, who later wondered out loud, "If you guys ever _do_ get married, would that make Killian a Prince?" "Royal consort, more like, although I like the idea of reinventing myself as the Pirate Prince." "King Hook," Mary Margaret offered. "And his Pirate Queen," a somewhat tipsy David added).

Emma sipped at the pumpkin pie milkshake Killian asked Granny to make just for her (because it was what she had needed to endure telling her parents and she wanted one _right now_ ). Killian walked over and hooked an errant lock of hair behind her ear before leaning in and pressing his lips just below her lobe.

"I think your mother rather likes me," he murmured into her ear.

"Just lay off Regina's apples, okay?"

"Tell that to her," he laughed, snaking his arm around her waist. As she rested her chin in the crook of his neck, she sought out her mother's ever-watchful gaze. She mouthed, "thank you," and Mary Margaret's eyes might have watered a little bit. She walked over to the two of them and raised herself onto her toes, putting her chin on Killian's other shoulder.

"I like you, all right," she said softly, but not so soft that Emma didn't hear it. "But hurt my daughter, and you get arrows sticking out of all of your favorite parts."

"The women in this family are so violent," he chuckled, but then he snaked his arm back and around so that he was awkwardly patting Mary Margaret on the waist.

"Never fear, ladies." He pressed a kiss into Emma's temple then turned his head to kiss Mary Margaret's. "I realized long ago that it was far better to be a part of this family than on the outside. I may be a pirate, but I'm no idiot."

"I wouldn't go that far," Mary Margaret retorted, and then David was grumbling about Hook flirting with everything that moved while Henry groused about his family being so _weird_. Emma could do nothing but stand there, shaking her head with fond exasperation. She only realized her palm was resting on the indiscernible swell of her belly when her mother made pointed eyes in that direction.

"Yeah, we'll keep him," Mary Margaret said, and it was that simple.

**Author's Note:**

> okay, i love captain charming, but in my head, it's snow white who would get into more shenanigans with killian jones. i love sassy, balls-to-the-wall snow white, and i just really wanted to read about the two of them being idiots. so i wrote it. thanks for reading!


End file.
